


clouds in my coffee

by Ejunkiet



Series: love like ghosts (kastle collection) [2]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: A 'what if' scenario close to my heart, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Espresso and coffee shops, F/M, New Beginnings, Season/Series 02, soft and fluffy feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-16 18:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19323364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ejunkiet/pseuds/Ejunkiet
Summary: He doesn’t look away when she meets his stare, and she can see that beneath the bruises, he’s relatively attractive: intense gaze coupled with a strong jaw and sharply defined features, the kind of guy she could have fallen for when she was younger, more naive.She’s learned to recognize trouble over the years though, and the man standing by the counter, fingers twitching at his sides, reeks of it.





	clouds in my coffee

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts for literal years, waiting to be finished and posted (that day is today). I will never be over these two.

The coffee shop that Karen frequents is not the grandest establishment: it’s small and cramped, stuck between a Polish butchers and a tobacco shop. The coffee it serves is not the best in the area, not by a long shot - and it’s not as if the custom here is anything out of the ordinary either: you ordered a coffee, and it would be provided, in a relatively timely (if not terribly efficient) manner.

What it is however, is  _ convenient _ ; equidistant between her apartment and the offices of Murdock and Nelson, and after she’d discovered it that first morning when she’d been running late for work and hadn’t had time to brew her own coffee, she’d marked it on her map, and had been a regular visitor ever since.

The price of an espresso is well within her budget; three is pushing it, but she figures she can stretch for it, just this once, if it would help Foggy and Matt get through the morning’s backlog of cases. Most of their clients still can’t afford to pay them, although that doesn’t mean they’re getting turned away. Karen just has to get creative – and that’s something she’s good at. More than that, it’s something she  _ enjoys. _

Finally she has the chance to do something that  _ means _ something, that has a positive impact on someone else’s life, and the sensation of triumph she gets when she manages to squeeze out enough to keep the lights on for another month far outweighs the stresses of managing the finances.

As the firm continues to accept more and more pro bono work, however, it’s getting harder to balance the books, and recently she's been forced to face the reality that this cannot continue indefinitely. At some point, something will give; whether it is the end of the tax year, or a surge in energy prices, or her own finances when she finally runs through the last of her savings, and can no longer afford to work for no pay.

This morning, however, Karen can still afford to buy a couple extra espressos for her colleagues, and so she does.

It’s early on a Tuesday morning, the air bitterly cold and the sun barely risen far enough above the horizon to light her walk to work, and so she’s surprised when she stumbles into her local coffee shop and finds someone else already waiting to be served at the counter.

The man is military, by the looks of it; she can tell by the way he holds himself, his back ramrod straight and his hair cropped short at the sides, although it’s too long for him to be in active service. He turns as she enters, and she can see the bruises on his face, identify the swelling that indicate a recently broken nose. Injuries like that speak of a life in the ring; he could be a fighter of some sort, or a boxer. Either way, it looks as if he’s had a much harder time of it than she has.

His eyes follow her with an intensity that she’s not sure she’s entirely comfortable with as she shrugs out of her overcoat and scarf. He doesn’t look away when she meets his stare, and she can see that beneath the bruises, he’s relatively attractive: intense gaze coupled with a strong jaw and sharply defined features, the kind of guy she could have fallen for when she was younger, more naive. 

She’s learned to recognize trouble over the years though, and the man standing by the counter, fingers twitching at his sides, reeks of it.

He holds her gaze for one long, steady moment before he inclines his head in a nod. “Ma’am.”

“Morning.” If her response comes out a little terser and sharper than she’d intended, she blames it on the fact that she hasn’t had her coffee yet. “Are they in?”

He jerks his head towards the back room, and now that she’s listening, she can hear the gentle rumble of an engine, the shuffle of boxes being unloaded from the back of a truck. “They’re out back.”

She glances at her watch, biting her lip as she calculates the amount of time she has to spare. She was already behind schedule; the firm didn’t open until seven, but she always arrived an hour or so earlier to make sure the files were in order, and today was a particularly busy day, with multiple appointments booked for each hour.

She looks back at the counter and lets out a soft sigh. The man glances at her, takes her in with one long and heavy look that scans her from her head to her toes, and she'd be offended if it wasn't so clinical, so  _ precise. _

"Already running late?"

“I work for a law firm," she explains. "We’re always about three days behind.”

He grunts at that, turning back to the counter, and it's then she notices his knuckles are bruised, and there are scratches along his arms, red and stark in the early morning light. Whatever fight this man had been in, it must have been brutal, and she finds herself second guessing her initial assumption of him being an organised fighter. This looks too real, too scrappy to be a sponsored match, and she wonders what exactly he'd been doing that had led to a fight like that.

"Something I can help you with?"

She glances up from where she'd been studying his hands to find his dark unwavering gaze on hers, the set of his jaw hard, and she raises a hand in apology.

"No - well. l mean-" She breaks off, biting down on her lip, before she reaches into her purse, taking out one of the business cards she'd picked up from the printer earlier this week. She hesitates for a moment, taking in his expression before she extends it to him. "The firm I work for. We offer legal representation, pro bono. If you needed it."

She's following her gut feeling, here. This man looks - tired, his exhaustion palpable, bone deep, almost as if he'd collapse if given a moment to finally come to a stop and rest. With the depth of the shadows under his eyes, she doesn’t think he finds periods of peace long enough for that to happen often. 

He eyes her for a long moment before taking the card, rubbing his thumb along the embossed script. When he speaks again, his voice is low, rough around the consonants as he meets her gaze.

"Murdock and Nelson." He considers her again, his dark eyes steady on hers as the moment stretches between them before he continues, "I'll keep it in mind."

She smiles, and opens her mouth to reply - before a loud crash from the kitchen interrupts them, and they both turn as a member of staff appears from the back, hastily tying an apron around their waist as they approach the counter and call out, “alright, who’s first?”

She waves the other man in front of her and checks her watch again, wincing as she realises she’s run out of time. She has to prepare for a client briefing booked for seven, and at this rate, she’d be pushing it to finish up the last of the prep before the meeting. 

She makes a mental apology to Matt and Foggy and decides to forgo the coffee, peeling away from the queue as she turns towards the exit, swiping at her phone as she checks through her unread email - before a presence at her shoulder makes her look up, and it’s the man from before, two cups of coffee in his hand.

“Here.” His hand extends awkwardly, presenting her with a large cup of black coffee. “This one’s on me.”

Surprised, she accepts it, smiling at the unexpected gesture. “Thank you.”

He nods and turns to leave, and she - can't just leave it at that. “Hey, wait.”

She goes to reach out to him, pausing when he tenses, before she drops her hand, wrapping it around her coffee cup instead. 

“I - didn't get the chance to introduce myself," she starts, and she can feel how awkward this is, even as she pushes herself to power through it. "I’m Karen."

He’s silent long enough that she doesn’t expect an answer, and she lets out a breath, turning to go, before -

“Frank.” 

His voice is low, hesitant, as if he’s not used to this, the exchange of greetings in a public place. 

She smiles and shifts the coffee to one hand, offering him the other to shake. “Nice to meet you, Frank.”

After a moment he takes her hand, his palm warm and calloused against her own. They look at each other for a moment, and his expression softens, easing into a smile.

It lasts for only a moment before he ducks his head, scrubbing a hand across the lower half of his face as if to erase the evidence of it. 

“Have a good day, ma'am.”

\--

The next few times she visits the coffee shop she looks for him - Frank. He never shows. 

A week passes, and then it's Tuesday again.

The coffee shop feels even emptier than usual as she approaches the counter and places her order. She's distracted as she watches the barista work, and her thoughts drift back to him as she wonders how he's doing, if he'd gotten some of the rest he'd clearly needed, if he'd found a better place for coffee. And really, it's not as if she could have expected him to become a regular like her here - most of the new faces she saw in this place didn't come back for a second visit.

She's still thinking about him when the barista passes over her drink, and it takes her a second to notice that they aren’t accepting her payment when she offers it. 

"This one is paid for." At her look, the barista sighs, scrubbing a hand through their hair as they glance past her at the empty shop before continuing, "That guy that was here with you before. Built like a truck, face like stone. Military, I think.”

She blinks as she makes the connection, a smile curving up her lips before her phone buzzes in her pocket and she remembers the meeting she'd scheduled with Matt and Foggy to go over the firm's finances. Glancing at her watch, she has to bite back a curse before hustling towards the door, throwing a hurried thanks over her shoulder before she makes her way down the street.

\--

When she next visits the shop, she pays ahead for two - and the next Tuesday, he's there when she arrives, dressed down in boots and a hoodie, and she can't help the smile that lights up her face when she sees him.

He looks - good. His features are softer without the bruises, and he looks better, as if he'd managed to catch some sleep in the last week. It suits him.

"Karen."

"Hi, Frank."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at my tumblr (ejunkiet)!


End file.
